


Snapped

by cookie_full_of_arsenic



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: But at least Pearl doesn't get her head bashed in, Cheating, Fight Sex, First Time, M/M, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25805263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookie_full_of_arsenic/pseuds/cookie_full_of_arsenic
Summary: Here's an idea, Lester - put down the hammer and go get laid instead!
Relationships: Lorne Malvo/Lester Nygaard
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	Snapped

**Author's Note:**

> These two are such a guilty pleasure. But I guess this counts as a fix-it of sorts, since Pearl doesn't get murdered and Lester still gets sucked into Lorne's dangerous world.

When people talked about some fella doing something momentous and strange and out-of character, they always used the word “snapped”.

“I guess he just snapped.”

Like the breaking of a twig, quick and sharp and violent.

When Lester snapped, it wasn’t anything like that. No, it was more like everything snapping into focus. Suddenly seeing the world clearly for the first time.

“You know what? I don’t have to listen to this … garbage,” he spat.

He turned away from Pearl, walked up the basement steps and out of the house. It felt fantastic, like being a kid and walking out of school, knowing the teachers couldn’t do a thing about it because he wasn’t actually a kid, he was a grown man who could do whatever the heck he wanted. He got in the car and drove.

Hi sense of elation flagged a little as he realized he didn’t know where he was going. But only a little. He allowed himself to drive aimlessly, focusing on the road ahead of him while the back of his mind considered what exactly he wanted.

A drink? Yeah, that’d be good. The burn of something strong at the back of his throat, making his head swim, giving him an excuse to seek out the warmth of someone’s skin…

Okay, so apparently he wanted to get laid. By someone who wasn’t Pearl. Someone younger, older, taller, fatter, darker, someone who would look him in the eyes and pull his hair. Someone vicious.

By the time he’d figured it out, he was in the parking lot of the motel. The motel where Lorne Malvo was staying.

He sat in the car for a good ten minutes, mentally listing all the reasons why he shouldn’t do this.

  1. He was married. And yeah, maybe that didn’t mean what he’d thought it meant when he married Pearl right out of high school, but it still meant _something_.
  2. He didn’t know if Lorne would be up for it. There had been a certain … electricity, between them. But Lester knew very little about electricity and could have got entirely the wrong impression.
  3. He knew that Lorne was a killer, which meant that (a) He was quite possibly a danger to Lester, and (b) If he slept with him, would that somehow implicate him further in Sam's death?
  4. He had never been with a man before.
  5. He was entirely unprepared.
  6. He was scared.



Having completed his mental list, Lester took out his cell, called the motel’s front desk and asked to be put through to Lorne.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me. Lester.”

“Hey, Lester.”

“Can I … can I come up and see you?”

“What for?”

“I, err, I had a fight with my wife, and-”

“What kind of fight?”

“Oh, nasty. It got real ugly, she said some very hurtful things.”

“And what did you do?”

“I left.”

“Well, that’s one way of dealing with things. Where are you now?”

“…”

“Lester?”

“In the motel parking lot.”

“That’s a little presumptuous.”

“I know. It’s not like me at all. And you can tell me to take a hike, if you want.”

“What do _you_ want?”

“I … Like I said, I’d like to come up and see you.”

“But you never told me what for.”

“…”

“Lester?”

“I can’t.”

There was a barely audible noise that might have been a sigh of frustration. Then Lorne said “All right, come on up.”

***

Lorne let him into the room, then sat on the bed while Lester hovered anxiously by the door.

“You gonna tell me what you want now?” Lorne said, with only a hint of impatience in his voice.

Lester gathered the tattered shreds of his courage and said “I think … I think I want you.”

Lorne smiled. Not a pleasant smile, no sir. It was sharp and predatory and it made Lester’s stomach turn somersaults.

“Can you be more specific?”

“Aw, geez, I really don’t think so.”

“Come on Lester, the worst I can do is say no. Well, actually, I could do a lot worse but I’m in a good mood, so I won’t.”

“Okay…”

For several seconds, nothing happened. Lester was shaking badly now.

“For God’s sake Lester, just tell me what you want me to do so I can either do it or kick you out.”

“Get on your knees.”

For all that they were his own words, they seemed to shock Lester a lot more than Lorne, who slid smoothly off the bed and onto his knees, never breaking eye contact.

Emboldened, Lester walked towards Lorne and looked down at him. He reached out and touched soft, black hair, and felt special. Like a kid from a fairy tale who can touch the wild beasts of the forest without being gored by them. He ran his fingers through all that hair, messing it up willfully.

“You’re not standing in a good place.”

“Huh?”

“Your knees are going to buckle and I don’t want you falling on me while I’m trying to concentrate. Do you want to stand up against the wall, or sit on the bed?”

Lester’s heart was pounding, and none of the blood it was pumping seemed to be going to his brain. He managed, somehow, to move his body from the middle of the small room, to the bed. Lorne swiveled around to face him and put his hands on Lester’s thighs, almost gentle. Lester gave him a pleading look.

“How ‘bout I take it from here?”

“Yes please.”

***

“I’m gonna leave my wife,” said Lester, before the sweat had even cooled on their skin.

Lorne said nothing. Lester thought, for a moment, that he was falling asleep. But no, his eyes were open. He just didn’t care whether or not Lester left his wife, and that was fine. Why should he?

And what the hell was Lester supposed to do now? Take a shower, go home and get his life sorted out? He had too many unanswered questions. He reached out and touched Lorne’s chest – hesitant, despite everything they’d just done – and said “I gotta know … why did you kill him?”

“I thought it’d be a romantic gesture.”

It took Lester a moment to realize he was being sarcastic. But he was unwilling to let the matter drop. “I’m just trying to understand it. I mean, it’s not like I offered you any money. Are you like a hitman?”

“Shit Lester, I thought you Minnesotans were polite. You’re in bed with a man and you mention your wife about thirty seconds after the sex, then ask him if he’s an assassin.”

“Sorry, it’s just that I’ve never met anyone like you. I can’t help but wonder who the heck you are and where you came from and how-”

Lorne cut Lester off by grabbing one wrist, then the other, and pinning them both beside his head.

“Wonder about that on your own time,” he said. “Wonder about it tomorrow, after I’ve left town. Until then, I’m just the guy who taught you how to give head. That’s all.”

Those words hit Lester right at the base of the spine. He could still taste it, a little, at the back of his throat. He couldn’t go again, not yet, but that didn’t seem to matter.

For years, sex had been the only kind of intimacy between him and Pearl. They’d barely touched each other outside of those perfunctory minutes at the end of the day, and every touch had the simple aim of getting each other off so they could go to sleep. Here, with Lorne, it was different.

Unable to move his arms, he wrapped his legs around Lorne’s hips. Lorne freed one of Lester’s wrists and put a hand around his throat, casual as anything. He didn’t even apply any pressure, but Lester’s adrenaline spiked all the same and he hit Lorne on the side of the head.

What followed, Lester could only describe as a fight. A desperate struggle to wriggle out from underneath Lorne. Climbing up on his back, giggling at the absurdity of it. Then being thrown off, effortlessly, onto the floor. Stunned by the fall. Stunned again by the sting of Lorne’s palm against his cheek. Stunned a third time as Lorne flipped him over and smacked his ass. Undeterred, Lester rolled onto his back and caught Lorne smiling. He threw his arms around his neck joyfully, grabbed a handful of hair and gave it a sharp tug.

They wrestled until they were both hard again, and then they wrestled until they weren’t.

Afterwards, they got back into the bed. Lorne fell asleep far more quickly and easily than he had any right to, while Lester lay awake for a long time. Sleeping beside this man seemed like the definition of a bad idea. He pictured Lorne’s eyes snapping open the moment he lost his grip on consciousness. And then what would he do? Steal his car? Slit his throat?

Such thoughts weren’t exactly conducive to a good night’s sleep. But for whatever reason, he had no intention of leaving the bed a second before Lorne kicked him out. Eventually, all that physical exertion caught up with him and he drifted off.

He woke up alone. He woke up with bruised wrists and a desire to be kissed that had been largely absent last night. Lorne was long gone and Lester did not feel up to the task of going home and facing whatever came next. But it had to be done.

In the shower, he had a realization. Lorne Malvo was a predator, but Lester could match him in that respect. He was going to spend the rest of his life hunting that man. No doubt it would destroy him. He’d end up like that crazy old sea captain in _Moby Dick_ , living and dying in pursuit of a dangerous creature that probably never gave him a second thought. And yet, somehow, it made more sense than anything else in Lester’s silly little life.


End file.
